


The Road to Telaquire

by Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-01-23 09:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer/pseuds/Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer
Summary: A Road to Eldorado AU! Our favourite warrior wives as conmen through ancient Greece, stow aways, and suddenly Gods in the fabled Amazon tribe of Telaquire! Our lovely Ephiny helps these two idiots who've stumbled in and caught the interest of their High Priestess Alti. Who else?There will be NSFW scattered throughout. Gotta give the gays what they didn't know they needed til now!
Relationships: Gabrielle/Xena
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Preface

_In a time of ancient gods, warlords and kings,_  
_ Two con artists scavenged a land._  
_ Xena and Gabrielle,_  
_ Drifters never captured, a bounty on their heads_  
_ The schemes...the passion...the danger..._  
_ Their love will change a world._

_A glorious city was build by the divinities, by Gods_  
_ Who saw fit to bestow the gift of a paradise_  
_ Peaceful and harmonious upon the mere mortals below_  
_ And made Telaquire, the magnificent and golden_  
_ One thousand years ago_  
_ Telaquire!_

The grandeur of the ship still swayed against the violent waves, storm clouds crackling overhead. Workers scurried about the deck, fastening the support lines and tying down stocks. Mead and wine had been passed about those of importance. Those in the Captain’s cabin were drunk on drink and power.

Caesar stood in his military best, robes fastened, a golden laurel wreath on display like a parading bird. His eager subserviants crowded around his table, an intricate map spread over it.

Caesar lifted his goblet. “Today, men, we sail to conquer the new world, for Greece, for glory, for gold!”

“Viva Caesar!” the men roared back, shaking the cabin, thumping their butt of their spears on the floor.

“Telaquire is _within our grasp_, the fabled Amazon Nation of Gold.”

“It exists,” one soldier breathed, almost stroking the map, “_really_ exists.”

“We all grew up on the stories,” the Captain stressed, “but that land will enrich Greece beyond our wildest dreams. Think of it, the sheer power of an Telaquire. Ten concubines a soldier.”

Boastful chuckling and crude comments swept the room.

“Tomorrow we sail!” Caesar bellowed for the ship to hear, the answering cries competing with the waves.

Meanwhile, below deck, among the litter and spilled mead of the galley, lay a crumpled poster:

_Sappho’s Con Artists_  
_Xena of Amphipolis_  
_Gabrielle of Poteidaia  
_ _Wanted Reward: 100 Dinars._


	2. Snake Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our ladies take a gamble and it bites them in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing on coffee, limited sleep, and hyperfocusing - enjoy! 
> 
> *There was a mixup when first posted, part of the chapter got copied twice and has been corrected now. I apologise for all the spelling mistakes etc I'm pretty sick right now and I forgot to eat today.
> 
> *This fic is cursed there was another mixup where I had Good Place language filters on and it changed words in my fic. Also corrected.

A crowd of spectators had huddled around four people and a pile of dinars on one side. The first two were men of more muscle than brains, both faces dragging on the table of the dingy tavern.

The other two had drawn the crowd.

Xena’s height got her noticed, but the blue eyes pulled them in. That morning after some negotiating, her hair had been tied in a messy braid down her back, pieces falling free around her face in the summer heat. In a bodice, loose shirt to show shoulder, and flowing skirt, Xena acted as the lure.

Gabrielle blended in a pair of slacks cut at the knee and a man’s blouse, quietly assessed the crowd. With her choppy blonde hair and muscle to rival a Greek soldier, her lures were often of the lonely housewife variety.

In a town like this, their game was simple and well rehearsed. The navy port had influx of fresh meat and a rotating cast to let them slip by, having stripped down any visible wanted posters the night before.

Step one, stroll into a tavern, order a drink, and wait. Gabrielle dawdles about the markets across the road, watching for the signal.

Within the hour, a couple of men had strolled in like they owned the place, began calling bets. Aetius and Barak.

Step two, Xena sweeps the braid over her left shoulder. Gabrielle gets in position to move in minutes later.

Step three, Xena strolls by the table, intrigued by their antics. Oh, what would she know of such games? Her wife certainly knew a few things and of course she could beat them. Macho overcompensation follows as expected.

And here they were.

“Seven!” Xena announced grandly with a little bow for the crowd.

Gabrielle paused her lyre – an instrument for busking, distraction, or club in the worst situations – to drape an arm over her wife’s shoulders proudly. “What can I say?” she taunted, as if she didn’t know their lingering eyes trailed between them. “She’s got that good touch.”

As expected, they barely noticed Xena grab the dice. “Shall with sing the money song, my love?” Xena asked her. It was enough to get them through to Thrace and out of dodge where the posters hadn’t reached – a whole new market of suckers waiting.

“We shall.” A jaunty tune poured from the lyre. _“Tons of gold for you!”_

“Hey!” Aetius barked.

_“Tons of gold for me!”_

“_Hey!_” Barak snapped.

_“Tons of gold for we!”_

The crowd washed in giggles.

“HEY!” The shout stopped the laughter and lyre dead in its strings. “One more roll!”

Xena arched an eyebrow. “Come on, boys, you're broke! You got nothin' to bet with! The temple forbids me to kick a man when he’s down.”

Barak’s lips pulled in in thought. An idea sparked. “Oh, yeah? I got this!” A map emerged from his bag.

“A map!” Aetius confirmed.

Xena wasn’t impressed. “A map?”

“A map!” Gabrielle almost squeaked. _Oh, no._

“A map of the wonders of the new world.”

Gabrielle was barely holding it together, swiping it out of his hand and unrolling it. “I’ll need to see it to prove authenticity. Xena, it’s-”

Xena grabbed hold of one side of the map, “Excuse us, for one moment, please,” and yanked it up in front of their faces.

“Gabrielle-”

“Xena, look!” She basically bounced in her chair. “Telaquire, the Amazon city of gold. This could be our destiny, our _fate!”_

Xena loved her wife, she truly did. But sometimes she was still the little farm girl from Poteidaia seeking adventure on guts and a prayer. She squeezed Gabrielle’s face in her free hand before anything else could come out. “Darling. My love,” she whispered through a forced smile, “if I believed in fate, I wouldn't be playing with _loaded dice. _We take the money and go. Do you understand me? Nod if you understand me.”

The famous pout emerged through a smooshed face.

“Don’t you dare- We can’t- We’re going to Thrace! That was the plan!”

Gabrielle, notoriously stubborn, went nuclear. “I’ll let you pick the position tonight. Anything you want.”

That got her attention. “Even…?”

The blonde took a deep breath. The map was worth it. “Yes, even that.”

Xena thought it over, groaned for multiple reasons. “Fine! _Fine!” _She lowered the map. “All right, son of a minotaur, you're on!”

Gabrielle reached for their dice.

A hand shot out. “Not with those!” Aetius barked. “This time we use my dice.”

_Oh, gods._

“You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not,” Xena forced. She leaned in to kiss her wife’s cheek. “If we lose I get that position and a divorce.”

She grudgingly dropped the map on top of the dinar pile, Gabrielle playing her lyre as more of a self soothe than anything else.

“Come on, baby,” Xena sighed, “Wife needs that crappy map.”

She held out her hand for Gabrielle to kiss the dice in luck, followed by the inside of her wrist, an old ritual.

“Show me seven!”

The crowd went dead silent. The dice rolled. They hit the ground. They spun. They stopped.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Xena breathed.

_Blessed be the gods._

“Seven!” Gabrielle shrieked.

The crowd went ballistic as the men doubled over, holding their heads in defeat.

The blonde quickly stuffed the map down her shirt and their money into her satchel. “There it is! Well, nice doing business with you.”

Aetius beat the ground with his fist in misery.

The dice jumped.

Seven.

_Shit._

A moment passed. Another beat. 

Seven.

_Fuck._

Everyone was on their feet in an instant.

“I knew it!” Barak blew up, tipping over their table and seizing Gabrielle by the shirt. “Your dice are loaded!”

A glance was exchanged between the wives. Gabrielle shoved him off and whirled on Xena. “What? You gave me the _loaded dice?”_ In moving to storm away, she walked face first into a guard’s chest, another coming up behind him. “She gave me loaded dice! Can you believe this- this _Jezebel_ I married?”

“How dare you!” Xena gasped. “_You_ call _me_ Jezebel? _You_ were the one caught fucking the temple Priestess!”

“She was a Priestess of Aphrodite! We're _suppose_ to sleep with them! I was performing a religious service! Guards, are you hearing this? I’m only human! _She_ tricked these sailors and took their money!”

“Oh, now I'm the thief?” Xena demanded.

“Yes!”

“I want a divorce!”

A gasp shook the onlookers. 

"Give love a chance!" someone shouted. "You can work through this!" 

“Oh, you better give them that money back, or I'll... I’ll-” Gabrielle fished and yanked the sword out of the Guard’s hilt. “Fight me!”

“Go fight yourself!” Xena snapped. “You’d fight an unarmed woman?” She grabbed the other guard’s sword. “Hey, honey, I need your sword, please and thank you!” She swung at Gabrielle. “I will give you the honour of a quick and painless death!”

The crowd and unarmed guards backed up out of range.

Gabrielle dodged backwards, leading Xena in. “Well, any last words?”

“I never liked your mother!” The brunette charged in, pushing Gabrielle up up a pile of stacked boxes, swords parrying and clashing. 

“It's not cute when you steal the covers, Xena!"

“You snore like a hydra with a flute up every nose!” They held their balance on the roof, swords moving in a rehearsed dance. “And I don't steal the covers, I take them back from you!"

“You fight like my sister!”

“I fucked your sister- that's a compliment!”

“Harlet!

“Heathen!”

The top of the roof began to crack, more guards flooding into the alley.

“Arrest them!” someone shouted.

Gabrielle faked a slip and hit the roof, horizontal to level her weight. Xena’s sword poked into her chest. The crowd howled for blood. Xena flung the sword into the ground, sending them scattering back. She grabbed her wife by the wrist and hauled her up.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Gabrielle announced in a bow, “we've decided it's a draw."

Xena curtsied. "Thank you all for coming. You've been great. See you soon!”

They hauled ass across the rooftops.

“Congratulations,” Xena commented as they ran. “You're very good. Do you ever think the theatrics are why we’re wanted?”

“And here I thought it was the conning!”

The tile slipped under the blonde's foot. The wives reached but both went over, landing awkwardly on the ground below and a bale of hay.

“Xena?” Gabrielle groaned.

“What?”

“Remember how I said I wanted a pet?”

The women looked up to see a large, snorting, angry bull at the end of the alley. Neither moved.

“I've got a plan,” Xena whispered.

“I’m listening.”

“Uh, well... Uh, you pet him..."

“Yeah?”

“...And I'll run!”

And off she went.

“We could've gone to a marriage counsellor!” Gabrielle yelled as the bull charged.

They barely made it over the alley fence as the furry canon barged through it. Breathing hard, they ran for it through the weaving corridors.

A crowd of guards burst through an opening. “There they are!”

Xena grabbed her wife by the scruff of the shirt and nearly broke her arm yanking her into a side street, leaving the bull and screaming guards behind them.

“Bye! Thank you!” Gabrielle called.

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Xena groaned.

Picking up speed, she grabbed onto a clothesline and hauled herself back to the roofline, Gabrielle close behind her. The ocean lay ahead. If they could just make it to the shoreline they could head down the promenade and blend in.

They skidded to a stop at the edge, guards scrambling up the roof behind them. Guards at their back, barrels down below in the loading docks.

The wives looked at each other.

“I'll bet we can make that,” Gabrielle wheezed.

“Two dinars says we can't.”

“You're on!”

They jumped.

With a prayer and an almighty thump, they both landed.

“You lose!” Gabrielle groaned.

A coin bounced between barrels.

"What am I sitting on?" Gabrielle mused. "Potatoes?" 

"Carrots over here," Xena replied. 

A thump and the world went black as something dropped onto both.

“Whoa! What's happening here?” Gabrielle squeaked. “We’re moving!”

“We're both in barrels. That's the extent of my knowledge.”

The ropes surrounding the crates went tight and lifted through the air.

“Okay, Gabrielle, we gotta move fast. On three, we jump out and head for the dock.”

They hit something solid.

“Good plan. I like this plan.”

Something solid hit them back.

“One, two, three...”

“Th-Three! – Three! Ow, fuck – Three!”

The world outside grew noisy and unsteady. And it stayed that way.

“So,” Gabrielle began, “you wanna play I Spy?”

“I hate you.”

Gabrielle guessed it was nightfall, and she could only guess it by the temperature drop and the water chilling her to her bones. At least some of the pressure overhead seemed to be relieved. Maybe the barrel was buckling.

“Everything hurts,” the blonde chattered, forcing her wife to talk so she knew she was okay. “I’m squished in here.”

“I’m taller than you. My knees are stuck halfway up my nose.”

“Xena, we’ve gotta get out or we’ll die in here. Come on, one more time.”

“If I die, I’m kicking your ash for the rest of eternity.”

“At least we’ll be together. Come on – one, two, three!”

The lids shot off as they burst out. Fresh air! Fresh beautiful – salty air?

They were greeted by a ship, surrounded by open water, and a very surprised then angry crew.

“Okay,” Gabrielle began. “We seem to have taken a detour.”

Both women were hauled out and chained within minutes, too exhausted to fight back.

To their increasing dismay, their ship held soldiers.

One left for the Captain, and the first thing Xena saw were some very big shoes. One nudged her face up, and her stomach dropped.

“Caesar,” she whispered, glancing at her wife who seemed equally horrified.

Caesar held a rolled up whip in one hand, which he rolled in a way that chilled the blonde worse than the water.

“My crew,” Caesar began in a dangerously quiet voice, “was as carefully chosen as the disciples of Ares. And I will not tolerate stowaways.”

_This is it,_ Xena thought. _This is how we die._

“You will be flogged. And when we put into port in Croatia to resupply, God willing, you will be flogged some more, and then enslaved to whatever soldiers will take you for the rest of your miserable lives.” His eyes swept them in distain. "To the brig.”

Gabrielle looked at her wife, laughing weakly. “All right! Croatia!”


	3. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dehydrated disasters, Xena and Gabrielle plot an escape from the brig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incomplete but better than nothing!

They learned the hard way that Gabrielle got seasick. The bucket in the corner dangerously wobbled with the waves, which made her nauseous, and the cycle continued. The miserable mess of a woman was slumped back against the wall, staring uselessly at the ceiling and the grate they’d been thrown through. On the upside, her landing was more pleasurable since she landed on Xena.

“One…Two…Three…”

Xena cracked open an eye. “Gabrielle,” the thief droned, “what are you doing?”

“Counting rats.”

“It’s sheep, darling. You’re supposed to count sheep.”

A blonde eyebrow arched. “My love, if you think we have sheep in this brig we have bigger concerns.”

“You should do something more productive with your time,” Xena growled through a pounding headache..

“Like you?”

“Precisely.”

Gabrielle held back a snort. “You’ve been banging your head against the wall for two days.”

“Thinking.”

“Oh? And how’s that working out so far?”

“I have a headache-”

“Shocking.”

“-And an idea.”

“You don’t say.”

Xena thumped her head one more time for good measure, then flopped back against the floor to stop the dizziness. “Stop moving, darling. I can’t think when you’re moving.”

“I’m not moving.” Gabrielle leaned forward over her wife in the opposite direction. “That’s just your brain whooshing around in your head.”

“Along with an idea,” Xena reminded her.

“So you said.”

Gabrielle could almost see the thoughts whizzing around her wife’s brain along with dehydration and existential dread.

“In the dead of night,” Xena began, “you and I steal some provisions-”

“Good so far.”

“Hijack one of those longboats-”

“Oh, gods-”

“And then we row back to Greece like there's no Tartarus!”

A moment passed. “Back to Greece,” Gabrielle repeated.

“Yes.”

“In a rowboat?”

“Yes.”

_Gods help me._ “Sensational,” she drawled, “and that-that's your plan, is it?”

“Yes.”

“For the sake of asking, my love, what’s Plan B?”

“We’re dead or slaves for life,” Xena pointed out.

“Plan A it is!” Gabrielle declared and kissed her equally ratty and dehydrated wife for good measure. “So, how do we get on deck?

The brig was still spinning a little, or perhaps that was Xena’s brain. She pondered the question, and came to a reasonable conclusion: “In the dead of night, you and I grab some provisions, hijack one of those longboats...

“You mentioned a divorce?”

“Well, okay, what's your idea, smart ass?” Xena demanded, bolting upright and accidentally knocking heads with her wife.

“What do you mean?” Gabrielle grumbled, rubbing her skull. “Don't ask me that! You're the one with the pla-”

A whinnie interrupted from above with thumping hooves.

“Ah ah, ya fat beast,” a voice barked, “not for you! You already got into my fucking supplies! Gods, why Caesar insists on bringing his walking couch everywhere I’ll never know!”

By a miracle of the gods, an apple rolled from the tray and fell through the grates onto Gabrielle’s lap. A tiny candle ignited in her brain. Oh potential ocean madness. Or both.

Xena nearly pounced until the blonde held it out of reach. “Xena, no-”

“We haven’t eaten in days!”

“Wait, I... I have an idea,” she hurried, wobbling up on stiff legs and hauling her potesting wife off the floor.

“Gabrielle-”

“Come on. Give me-- Give me a boost.”

“I’ll probably drop you.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m calling you an idiot.”

“Xena.” A moment of seriousness crossed Gabrielle’s face that actually made her other half pause. “Lift me up. As soon as the guards are away from the grate.”

Rolling her eyes and dropping, she picked her wife up around the legs, face buried in her stomach. “Normally-” she mumbled with her face full of shirt, “-I would think you’re flirting with me. But you smell.”

“Oh and you smell like daisies, do you?”

“Point Gabrielle.”

Face near the grate, fingertips clinging, she almost got a taste of fresh air. “Argo,” Gabrielle cooed softly, wiggling the apple, “Argo, you want a nice apple? Come and get it.”

“Gabrielle!”

The beast greeted her suspiciously, inching closer.

The apple moved back. “You have to do a trick for me first.”

Could’ve been the dehydration but Gabrielle was sure it snorted in derision.

“Gabrielle-”

“All you have to do is find a pry bar,” she explained gravely, “a long piece of iron with a hook thing at the end. Yeah?”

“Gabrielle, you're talking to a horse!”


End file.
